


The Rise of Speedy

by BiJane



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Accidental Incest, F/M, Superheroes, a more realistic version of Shade, because, vigilantes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiJane/pseuds/BiJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how the Shade tormented Starling City, how Thea became Speedy, and how she might have just made out with her brother. Oops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Origin Story

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> So, I'm not the biggest expert on DC by a long shot. My knowledge comes from a little googling, Arrow, Smallville, and half-remembered animated Justice League from years ago. Still, hopefully Shade isn't too unrecognizable for more avid DC fans than I. Had to change him a fair bit to make him fit the Arrow universe, and come up with a story.  
> Honestly I'm not really an Oliver/Thea shipper either, but for this story I couldn't resist.  
> I should probably stop listing reasons why you might not like the story in this description... ah well.  
> Chapter one is just setting things going. More shippiness in later chapters. I could make this so much longer, but I just don't have the time to write as much as I'd like.  
> Enjoy!

All in all, he was an odd sight. Even in a city whose nights routinely saw the antics of a green-clad archer and a self-proclaimed Canary, he stood out.

A smart top hat, a crisp suit, black tie as though attending a funeral. He strode along on polished shoes, though the stitches and creases exposed a poorer background than the outfit would suggest. Completing, however, the archaic costume, he held a cane in one hand, though he clearly didn’t need it to walk. The sunglasses were the one incongruity.

Night in what remained of the Glades. Some gave him a second glance, indeed most did. Others hurried on, eager to get home.

When the streets were empty save for one other, he approached them. He did not speak, merely lifted his cane, to tap them on the shoulder. They turned: he swung the cane.

“Hey!” the man struck the fallen body once more, before turning back, to see the source of the noise. “Hey!”

Roy Harper ran closer. He’d heard a few stories of violent beatings in the Glades, most fatal. On his patrols of the streets, he’d hoped to come across the perpetrator, even if he hadn’t expected such odd attire.

Already bruised, the man on the floor tried to stand, to crawl away. Absently, they were struck with the cane once more: knocked out cold.

Roy was then close enough: he grabbed the cane, tried to wrestle the strange weapon from the man. ‘Shades’, Roy thought of him as; the sunglasses were one of his more distinctive features. The only thing that didn’t fit with the quasi-Victorian vibe.

“Stop it, Shades,” he muttered, kicking, trying to make ‘Shades’ fall. Instead, the man stepped back, striking his staff on the ground: and an instant later, darkness took over Roy’s vision. Fighting the panic at the sudden blindness, he staggered. Then the pain came.

* * *

 

“Roy!” Thea’s voice carried through the corridors of Glades Memorial Hospital, as she rushed to his bedside. “Roy!”

He was almost unrecognizable. Bruises covered every visible speck of skin; eyes swollen shut, lips split, dried blood smeared beneath his nose and around his mouth. Both arms were bent at unnatural angles, and Thea heard the doctors mention more ribs than she was willing to think of, broken.

“Thea,” Roy managed to say, though the word came out strange, distorted. “I- guy in the Glades…” soon after that, his words became unintelligible. A moan.

“I told you, you should stop,” Thea said, no judgement in her voice. An attempt at a smile, belying the tears forming in her eyes. “Might be someone who was too much for you.”

She had to stop herself from taking his hand. That hurt, almost as much as looking at him. She wanted to hold him, to comfort him, to tell him things would be ok.

Yet she couldn’t afford to so much as touch him, much less grasp his hand like she wanted to. And, in any case, she honestly couldn’t say whether things would be ok. Not after seeing him like this, not seeing him-

“You should… see the other guy,” Roy spoke, slowly. He might have tried to smile; his face was too swollen to tell. More melancholy: “Not a… scratch on… him.”

He inhaled, sharply. Thea blinked away tears, leaning over him.

“Are you-” she cut off that question. Of course he wasn’t ok. “Can I- is there anything-” questions seemed to fall short.

Roy moaned. Something incomprehensible, pained, escaped his lips, before he close his eyes, willingly escaping the pain. Thea could have sworn she heard the word ‘Shade’ in that moan.

She paused, then sat beside his bed. Patient. When he woke up, she’d be there.

The only drawback was the sound of doctors. Dialogue on his injuries; broken bones, bruises, likely internal bleeding… Just thinking of how he’d gone through that made her shudder.

Still, she waited. 

* * *

 

Three hours later, Thea returned home. Having heard, Oliver was standing by the front door, waiting for her. When Thea came, her eyes were red, and she was rubbing tears away. Each step seemed to be a challenge.

Quickly, Oliver walked to her, offering his arms. She fell into his embrace, gratefully, pressing her head to his chest, and sobbing. Without a word, he held her, patient. Dampness seeped through his shirt.

“It’s Roy,” Thea managed to say, between swallows. Her eyes and throat burned. “He- He’s dead, Ollie. He’s dead.” 

* * *

 

As soon as he was able, Oliver found himself downstairs, at his club. A sleepy, bleary-eyed Felicity and Diggle came as soon as he called, meeting him in his secret basement.

“Don’t you need your beauty sleep,” Felicity said, complaining, as the computer loaded, “I mean, not that you’re not already- Ok, that one doesn’t count, I’m tired. But really, you do know some people sleep?”

“Roy’s dead,” Oliver said simply. Felicity’s mouth formed s silent O, before she quickly returned to the computer, not willing to put her foot in her mouth any further.

She worked quicker than ever. She’d known Oliver long enough to know when he was on the verge of breaking, and this was one such time. Even if he hadn’t necessarily known Roy enough to be close, he knew Thea: and she was very close.

Felicity wouldn’t let Oliver break. She’d keep him together, if she could: and this was something she could do. He needed a purpose.

“No police report online yet,” she said, fingers dancing along the keys. “Hospital records though, one Roy Harper. Cause of death, internal haemorrhaging, in the- never mind. But he wasn’t the only one; seems linked to a Sue Fowler, among others: and she… _does_ have a police report.”

Diggle and Oliver moved closer behind her, looking at the screen. There was a quick artist’s impression of the killer, given to a police artist by one of the few survivors. A handful of notes were underneath.

“Name is Richard Swift,” Felicity read. “In the earthquake, was trapped underground for almost a week, with no light. Profiler says that traumatized him. Don’t blame him- not that that’s any excuse,” she added hastily. “Apparently some people walked past: and they didn’t help him. He blames them for his suffering.”

A moment of silence. Felicity scanned further down the page.

“That’s… kinda handy, I guess,” she said. “Apparently he was interested in Victorians. Major history buff. Since the earthquake, he’s started dressing that way. Profiler thinks he’s taken on similar values: bitterness against those who didn’t help him, combined with Merlyn’s earthquake, and he blames the Glades for what happened. If they hadn’t been corrupt…”

Her voice trailed off, not exactly enthralled by seeing into a killer’s mind. There was another note about his time in the darkness likely causing some fixation with shadow, or being unable to see. They could only speculate, though.

“I hate it when he does that,” Diggle said. Felicity turned, and looked up at him: and then noticed a distinct lack of Oliver.

Off to hunt Richard Swift. 

* * *

 

Somehow, Thea made it through the night. Ollie sat to her side, though whether it was out of sympathy or being worried she might hurt herself, she didn’t want to think. When she’d run out of tears, she feigned sleep: at some point then, Oliver had left her.

She’d sat up, and considered… A lot of things, in truth. She still had friends and, whether or not Vertigo was available any more, there were other options. Other distractions. There’d be the moment of guilt just as she took, and then ecstasy, and release.

She could cope with that, again. She could cope with that more than the alternative.

At some point, as the night wore on, that stopped being an option. Why, she couldn’t say: only that it felt too weak. Too useless, and mundane.

No, she wouldn’t fall back into her old ways. Not yet, at least. First, she’d try to make a difference, as Roy had. And if she found the guy who’d killed him, that Shade, she’d teach the bastard a lesson.

As early as felt right, Thea felt for her phone, and found a number she’d saved there the year before.

“Hello?” Thea said, “Laurel?” 

* * *

 

Laurel was good at self-defence. Thea knew a little, but by no means as much as Laurel. And those skills were what she need, if she was to make a difference.

Within a week, tireless, desperate practise at home, and sparring lessons with Laurel had made a measurable effect. Thea just needed to imagine the face she’d given Shade, and nothing stopped her.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Laurel said, as they sat on a chair, in her apartment.

It was the best area to practise, they’d both decided. No one was likely to barge in, it was easy, Thea wouldn’t need to answer anyone else’s questions, and it worked, most basically. They cleared out a small area in the centre of one room, laid out a few cushions and pillows in case they fell, and practised.

Laurel taught, Thea learned and, sometimes, asked.

“Of course,” Thea said, her tone ringing hollow to Laurel’s eyes.

“You don’t need to lie,” Laurel said. “Sadness isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”

A moment of silence. Laurel took her hand, in an effort at comfort; it just made Thea wince to remember how she couldn’t have done something similar for Roy.

The tiniest things hurt the most.

“After Roy,” Thea said, inhaling. “I just want to feel safer. He went looking for fights, that was why he- But there are still people out there who’d do that. The one that did that. I need to be able to protect myself from them.” Especially if she was to go after them.

Sadly, Laurel squeezed her hand. She knew too well how Thea was feeling; the anger, the sudden urge to do something, anything. The need to stop the world turning if that was what it took to change things.

She’d lost Tommy. Pain, she was all too familiar with.

“I understand,” Laurel said, soft. “If you want, we don’t need to just trade blows. I can listen as well as-”

“No,” Thea said, interrupting as she stood. “Let’s keep going. Please.” 

* * *

 

Rage and overconfidence combined to form Thea’s first mistake.

Walking home from Laurel after another exhausting session, Thea passed through the Glades. She couldn’t quite say why, save for the purpose that had been burning within her for weeks.

The knowledge that criminals still walked the streets, criminals like Shade, was unbearable, now more than ever. She felt as though she could fight, so she’d find one, and teach a lesson. She’d grown to understand why Roy was so addicted to this.

It was a strange kind of thrill. A release. A rush, almost akin to Vertigo.

A rush that soon faded when the first she’d found, a drug dealer, ducked beneath her blow, and fought back. That was the one problem: she’d learnt how to defend herself, not attack others.

Just as Thea began to worry, a woman in black, with long blonde hair, came from seemingly nowhere. Rather anticlimactically, the dealer ended up out cold on the floor.

The blonde woman stood there, armed apparently with no more than a pole. She inhaled, and exhaled, her breath remarkably measured after the, admittedly brief, exertion of the fight. After a few seconds, Thea, remembered to blink, and breathe also.

“Um,” she said, “Thank you?”

“Thea Queen,” the unknown woman spoke. “I saw you training. You’re not good enough to handle it out here.”

“I-” Thea paused, winded. “I need to be.”

“Why?”

“Long story,” Thea said. She wasn’t going to give her life story to some stranger with a leather fetish. The woman didn’t seem bothered.

“You lost someone you cared about,” the woman said, quickly, “And now you’ve found a way to let the anger out. Sound right?”

Blink. “Not that long a story,” Thea conceded. What else could she say?

Beneath her small mask, the woman smiled.

“Want some help?” 

* * *

 

Sara Lance couldn’t say just what possessed her to teach Thea. Maybe it was seeing how she got along with her sister, maybe it was less complicated sympathy. Whichever, Sara found herself meeting with Thea almost daily.

Soon, Thea stopped meeting with Laurel altogether, though it was on good terms. Now she had a better training instructor for cleaning up the streets, her grief was less noticeable: Laurel seemed to notice that.

Even with the odd kind of friendship they struck up, however, Sara didn’t reveal her identity. Instead, she fell back to the old title of Canary.

Her training might not be as brutal as the League’s, especially not with limited time. Nonetheless, it worked well enough to give Thea a distinct edge over almost every common crook out there. She recognized the exhilaration on Thea’s face.

She’d worn a similar expression, though hers tempered with more fear, the first time she realized just what her body was capable of.

One night, the Canary gave Thea a spare mask and wig, and offered to bring her out. Real practise. Thea took out four common thugs by herself, taking just one bruise.

When they got back to Canary’s small hideout, Thea was grinning. Both knew she was ready.

“Good speed,” Canary said. “Your best skill. Maximise on it.”

Thea found herself laughing. Her first time since Roy’s death.

“Speedy,” she said, smiling. “Ollie always used to call me that. Hated it.”

“Good description though,” Canary said. “If you’re going to do this more, though, you’ll need a mask. One that’s more your own. You know how they treat vigilantes.” 

* * *

 

And so, that night, in her room, Thea regarded a set of clothes she’d both bought and found within her wardrobe.

As a counterpoint to the green of the Hood, she’d chosen red. Dark top, similarly shaded jeans. They went well together. To hide her identity, she had a mask given to her by the Canary; and a dark yellow jacket she’d found, the hood pulled up to conceal her face. It did a good job of hiding her hair.

Speedy, hm? She stood in front of her mirror, for the first time enjoying the nickname. 


	2. Vigilante's Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thea makes her mark as a vigilante, while the Hood reacts to another's presence.

Thea had found Shade.

It wasn’t especially hard. He was the only one in the Glades that went around in a suit and top hat, and definitely the only one with an archaic cane. She’d spotted police sketches of him on the news, ‘Richard Swift’. Still, she thought of him as Shade.

It was what Roy had called him, presumably. Shade just seemed to fit him more, than the mundane name of Richard.

“Richard Swift!” Thea cried out, and the Victorian-attired gentleman slowed.

Knowing he was the one who’d killed Roy, and done so, so awfully, should have had more of an effect on her. Thea knew that, instinctively. Roy had been on a self-imposed mission to clean up the Glades , and had fought his way through so many criminals: and this Shade had killed him with what seemed to be ease.

But then, Thea had managed to take out at least as many as Roy. And she’d had better training.

Swift regarded her; and a smirk briefly adorned his cold features. He turned, fully, gripping his cane in both hands.

Thea rushed closer- only to stumble when everything went dark, as though the shadows had swallowed her. A moment later, she felt the cane strike her chin, and she was falling, falling back-

Her training, courtesy of the Canary, kicked in. In mid-fall, she span around; her hands hit the ground before the rest of her, and even as the cane struck her back, she was able to spring back up. When she was struck again, this time she managed to stay upright.

Still, she was at a disadvantage. She couldn’t see anything, not the Shade, not the cane, not the streets around her; her eyes ached softly, but not enough to suggest she’d been blinded.

The base of the cane, judging by the feel, hit her just below her ribs. Wincing, Thea reached forward, just managing to catch Shade’s staff, and pull, trying to yank it away.

He held fast. Of course he did; nothing would be that easy. Still, as long as she held it in place, he wouldn’t be able to use it as a weapon. Unfortunately, that didn’t even the scales, even if it was a start; she still couldn’t see.

Reluctantly, she recalled another piece of the Canary’s advice. Don’t fight battles you can’t win; be able to gauge your opponents, and spot who’s too much of a threat. Wait until a better opportunity.

Catching Shade by surprise, Thea pushed the staff forward, able to feel it as it struck some part of him. Then, living up to her taken name, she speedily departed. After a minute or so more, her sight had returned.

* * *

 

It was on a less major mission, while she was clearing out the Glades, that Thea ran into the other vigilante. The Hood. She’d just rendered a common thug unconscious, when she heard his voice. Instantly on-guard, she turned, and hopped over said thug’s accomplice.

“Who are you?” the Hood spoke, his voice clearly depended, hiding any clue as to his identity.

That was a thought, Thea reflected, before she replied. She was a Queen, relatively well-known to a lot of Starling City. There was a chance the Hood would be able to recognize her real voice. Instinctively, she made an effort to deepen hers, similarly.

It didn’t sound as imposing as his, not on her first try. Nonetheless, it hid her real voice well enough.

“Could ask you that too,” she said, looking out from under her own hood. “I’m just someone looking up to tidy up the streets. Bit like you.”

“Go home,” the Hood said. “It’s not safe.”

“I had noticed that.”

“No,” the Hood said, “You haven’t. If you had, you wouldn’t be out here. Wanting to make a difference is good: getting yourself killed isn’t.”

“I won’t get killed then,” not like Roy. “I can take care of myself.”

The Hood paused, and sighed, weary. Perhaps impatient. Thea waited, watchful, not willing to turn her back on him: though she was reasonably sure his intentions were good, she couldn’t be sure.

Then again, she might be able to use him. Another vigilante; and one more open about it. Canary seemed to have something else distracting her, while the Hood was dedicated to fighting the criminals in the city.

She still remembered her one engagement with Shade. Richard Swift. The way he’d blinded her, and she had only a suspicion of how he’d managed that. She’d learnt to fight by senses other than sight, certainly, but the moments of disorientation caused by temporarily losing her eyesight had cost too much.

“Besides,” she said, “I get the feeling you could do with a bit of help. Or haven’t you heard, Victorian-lookalike prowling the Glades?”

“I’m dealing with it,” the Hood said.

“Looks like it. Three more dead in the last week, wasn’t it?”

A moment of silence. The Hood kept his eyes on her; she stared at him, making out the shape of his chin, and starting to see the structure of his cheeks. Though she was hardly expecting to identify him, it would be nice to imagine a face.

“Have you fought him, yet?” Thea said. The Hood paused.

“I need to find him,” the Hood said. “Winning a fight isn’t the only step. Track his movements, find a pattern-”

“Or just walk down the street,” Thea cut in. “I found him, pretty easily.”

“And he escaped,” the Hood said. “That should tell you that you’re not prepared for this. Go home.”

“I survived,” Thea said. “That’s more than anyone else. Besides, he’s the exception. Better prepared than the average. Until you say you’ve stopped him, you’ve nothing to say to me.”

As much as Thea wanted to be the one to stop Shade, she wasn’t obsessed. That phase she’d grown out of in the first week of training; blind anger had faded with each punch she’d thrown. Now her aim was only to make things right.

If that meant letting the Hood take out Shade, then so be it. At least he’d stop being on the streets.

Thea watched wary, yet gratified, as the Hood left her. In a way, he’d inspired her; she probably wouldn’t have considered this kind of vigilantism if he hadn’t paved the way. Meeting him again, and actually exchanging words, might lessen his mystique, but it made him more human.

That she was glad of. She could actually be grateful to a human. And if he actually did stop the Shade, then she’d definitely be thankful.

* * *

 

The words of the new red-clad vigilante haunted Oliver.

She was different to what he’d expected, certainly. She had more morals than, say, Helena, and markedly more skill than the average Hood-fanatic. Something told him she had reasons of her own, as well, rather than simply being one of the more obsessive fans.

“Felicity,” he said to his phone, once he was sure no one was near. “There’s a new vigilante in town.”

There was the tap of keys on the other side, before he heard her voice.

“Wears red and yellow,” she said, “Woman, expert at hand-to-hand?”

“That’s her,” Oliver said. “Anything you can tell me?”

“That’s all the police file says,” Felicity said. “Only a few witnesses have spotted her. That description comes from a petty thief she’d turned in. Well, not turned in so much as tied up and called the cops. She’s fast.”

So, she could handle herself. That was something, if not much of one. If a guy in a top hat and sunglasses made her run though, she was far from unbeatable. Where one could triumph over her, so could another.

Something about her stayed with him, though. So many people saw him just as the Hood; just as Helena had though, she seemed to see more than that, being a vigilante herself.

For that reason alone, he felt, kind of, protective. If Richard Swift was a challenge for her, then he’d have to find him. At least then, this red-and-yellow speedy woman would be a bit safer, until he could convince her to hang up that jacket.

No matter how good she might think she was, she didn’t have his training. Surely she couldn’t control things as well as she hoped.

* * *

 

When Oliver found Swift however, he was forced to revise that opinion.

The first thing he’d done was let loose an arrow at the cane, intending to stop it being used as a weapon. With startling easy, Richard caught that arrow in the air.

Well, maybe Oliver shouldn’t have been surprised. Everyone knew the Glades were patrolled by a bow-and-arrow wielding vigilante, it was a wonder more criminals hadn’t invested their time in learning that particular trick.

Firing again, this time at Richard’s arm, the arrow was knocked aside by the cane. As Oliver ran closer, each arrow was knocked aside.

When he was within reach, Oliver opted to swing his both as though it were a club. With ease, Richard ducked under it, and lashed out with his cane.

For the first few moments, Oliver felt confident. Swift was a decent enough fighter, true, but not much more than average. Aside from his arrow-catch, Swift didn’t have any stand-out skills, that Oliver could determine. Out of curiosity, Oliver purposefully didn’t get out of the way, as he felt the cane strike his shins.

Average strength too. This wouldn’t be a challenge.

And then Swift withdrew his cane, and everything went black. The precious few seconds of disorientation were enough for Oliver to be knocked to the floor, feeling the beginnings of a large bruise along his lower back. Richard struck again, and again, each blow harder than the last.

Painful seconds passed, before Oliver, hand flailing almost aimlessly, caught his bow. Quickly, he swung it back, feeling a judder through the bow as he hit Swift’s legs.

He’d been overconfident. Expecting the other vigilante to be weaker than she was, he’d thought it would be easy to tackle the foe who’d been, maybe, her equal. Oh, but he’d been wrong. Retreating, to be prepared for the next time, Oliver just hoped his vision would return soon.

* * *

 

Thea was on patrol when the Hood found her once more. That time, she was less guarded. If need be, she could defend herself, but it didn’t feel necessary.

“I fought Richard Swift,” the Hood spoke. Thea suppressed a smile.

“And?”

“He’s good,” the Hood’s deepened voice said, conceding. Thea sighed, disappointed that Shade was still out there.

“Blindness trick get you too?” she said, tilting her head.

The Hood paused there. She could guess why; before, he might have thought her lying. It had been a challenge to survive a fight against the practised Shade, when she couldn’t so much as see him.

But no one knew about that trick of his. Those that were there when Shade killed, didn’t survive long enough to say. A few had glimpsed him beating victims to death, and run; but clearly they hadn’t been affected by that trick.

The fact Thea knew about it, would confirm to the Hood that she was skilled. She’d survived engaging Shade; it was the only way she’d know about that.

“Do you know how he does that?” Thea said, frowning. The Hood regarded her.

“Do you?” he spoke. Another test, was it?

“I’ve got a few ideas,” she said. “Want to hear them?”

The Hood nodded.

“At first, I thought it was some weird kind of smokescreen,” she said. “Unlikely though; it wouldn’t take too long to fade, if that was the case. So he’s got to do something to our eyes. Next, I thought chemical, but I’d feel that, and besides he was too far away. So I think it’s that stick of his: a light or something, very bright. Ridiculously bright. Flash-blindness.”

The Hood nodded, curt.

“I thought the same,” he spoke. “His sunglasses gave it away, to me. They don’t fit the costume: so there has to be another reason for them. Either they lessen the flash, or they block out the wavelength of light the stick emits.”

Thea smiled. It was good to have someone to talk to, she reflected; it always felt a bit hollow, brainstorming alone in her room.  
“Which helps us,” Thea said. “Can’t be many bulbs that can flash that bright. If we can find out the places that sell them, we can find him. Doubt he’ll be so easy to spot now he knows two vigilantes are after him.”

“We?” the Hood echoed. Thea smiled, lips visible below her dark yellow hood.

“You couldn’t beat him alone,” Thea said. “Why not ‘we’?”

Mentally though, she was thinking on Shade. She could take the flash-stick theory more seriously, if another had come up with it. Then there was just the matter of fighting it.

Sunglasses wouldn’t work, unless she could block out the right wavelength of light; equally, shutting her eyes would fail. That would mean she’d either be fighting blind voluntarily, or the flash might even go through her eyelids. And if she tried to cover her eyes, she’d be fighting blind until she uncovered, at which point Shade could flash again.

No, she’d need to be able to fight without sight. The Hood could come in handy.

“I’ve an associate who’s tracking down places that make those bulbs,” the Hood spoke. “I can do recon. Once I’ve found Swift, we can take him out.”

“We?” Thea echoed, smiling.

“We,” the Hood nodded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, the set-up took much longer than I was expecting. Still, I promise there'll be more interaction between the Queens in the next chapters. Hopefully you still enjoyed it so far, though.


	3. Love Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The relationship between Thea and the Hood develops.

They’d come up with a meeting place. They met in a ruined part of the Glades, an abandoned, fallen house. When there, they talked, and planned, and plotted. When they were done, they decided on the time they’d next meet, taking care not to have any pattern.

Wouldn’t do for their secret identities to be found out. Both still kept their hoods on.

Thea had to admit to enjoying those meetings, though. In part for the thrill of plotting against Shade, and in part for the chance to be open about how she now spent her nights.

It was one advantage of going through a rebellious phase, Thea supposed. Aside from the practise at sneaking out her bedroom window, no one found it too unusual if they didn’t know where she was, at all hours. She was fairly sure Ollie was just glad she was getting out, after what happened to Roy.

Well, he probably was. He’d be spending his nights at home, no doubt; he played the party boy in public, but she knew him too well to be fooled by that.

“How’s the bulb-hunting going?” Thea had said, in their first meeting. The Hood had shrugged.

“Well,” the Hood said. “There are a dozen likely sources that are near enough to keep Swift supplied.”

“So the next step’s to see who they’re supplying,” Thea guessed. Her training had been in combat, not this; still, she could learn fast. “Or if there have been multiple burglaries.”

“I’m heading out to each,” the Hood said. “There are no reported burglaries, so they’re probably hushing it up. With his blindness trick, Shade could walk in: they’re not going to want to publicize that.”

“Need any help?” Thea said, smiling.

“No,” the Hood said, curt.

“Too dangerous?” Thea’s tone was mocking. The Hood smiled, just briefly.

“I’m bringing a friend,” the Hood said. “She’s better with computers. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t trust you enough to introduce her.”

“Fair enough,” Thea said. “I won’t be seeing under that pretty little hood soon then?”

A chuckle.

Thea paused, looking out of the ruined house. Though a start had been made on tidying the part of the Glades ruined in Merlyn’s earthquake, not everything could be sorted out in under a year; and, especially, people wouldn’t flock back to a place so recently destroyed.

“Why do you do this?” the Hood spoke. It was strange, hearing what was really just a friendly question, in the hoarse, disguised tone he used.

“Why?” Thea echoed. Well, maybe not as strange as replying similarly.

Her fake voice had improved, since their first meeting. She could speak for longer in it, after practising in front of the mirror. Plus it sounded more, almost, natural.

“Just curious,” the Hood said. “There aren’t many people like us.”

“True,” Thea said. Then: “I lost someone. Someone close.”

“This is revenge?”

Thea shook her head. “A memorial.”

A pause. She heard the Hood move, until he sat down beside her. Without quite realizing, she took his hand.

“You?” Thea said, marvelling that tears hadn’t returned.

Speaking of Roy often brought them close to the surface. She didn’t always cry, but she did always feel close, feel like one wrong word would make them spill out. Somehow, now, they didn’t. It was… refreshing.

“Something similar,” the Hood said. “I promised him I’d be better.”

Thea turned, glancing sideways. Even unable to make out most of his face, she could guess at his expression. Strangely beautiful, especially in the moonlight.

Looking back, she couldn’t quite say what possessed her. Only that she wanted to comfort him, and wanted him to know that she was glad she’d met him, glad they’d spoken; that those exchanges had become this. A kind of openness.

She rested one hand on his cheek. When he didn’t protest, she leaned closer, and pressed her lips so softly to his. He kissed back.

* * *

 

It was a couple of days before she planned to see the Hood again. More than ever now, she was looking forward to it.

There’d been a time she couldn’t imagine moving on, after Roy. It might have been an irony that she found herself with the man he’d idolized, but that wasn’t a factor. He was kind, he stood up for what he believed in and, well, the abs he’d felt under his top didn’t hurt.

At home, she wandered out into the garden, thinking to herself.

“You look happy,” Oliver said, from behind her. She turned, to glance at him.

“Guess I am,” she smiled. “Why?”

“No reason,” Oliver said, wandering closer. “Just haven’t seen you like this, for a while.”

Since Roy, he meant. She knew he meant that: and she thought back to Roy. With no sadness this time; well, with a little, but more a sense of fulfilment. She’d met the vigilante, and together they’d stop Shade, Roy’s killer: and, given a chance, clear up the rest of the city.

Maybe she should feel guilty over the night before. Though it was little more than a kiss, it certainly wasn’t platonic. Then again, Roy wouldn’t hold it against her, if he was somehow looking down.

“Things are looking up,” Thea said. “That’s all. What, do you want me to go back to being all mopey, huh Ollie?”

“No,” Oliver shook his head, “Definitely no. It’s really not a complaint, Thea. I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

* * *

 

When the Hood and Speedy next met, the sun was setting. He was sitting on a salvaged chair, waiting, when she arrived.

“Any luck?” she said, pulling up another stool, beside him. He shook his head.

“Checked out three,” he spoke, voice low as ever. “They all seem clear.”

Thea sighed. They’d have to wait a bit longer, then. Surprisingly, she wasn’t too impatient. As eager as she was to stop the Shade, that would come eventually. And in any case, his murders had lessened; there was, at most, one a week. Still too many, but the knowledge both she and the Hood were after him seemed to have made him wary.

“What do I call you?” the Hood said, after a moment. “Not your name, if you don’t trust me with it. I need to think of you as something, though.”

Thea hesitated. ‘Speedy’ was the nickname she’d assigned to herself, but it wasn’t really an actual name. And to be honest, it was a little embarrassing.

“Mia,” she said. Similar enough in pronunciation to ‘Thea’ that she’d remember to answer to it.

“Mia?” he echoed. Thea nodded, liking the sound.

“And you?” she said, “Should I stick with Hood?”

He grimaced. Thea tilted her head, curious, and he took a few seconds to reply.

“Hate that nickname,” the Hood spoke, his casual words sounding strange in his disguised tone.

“What’d you prefer?”

A shrug. Well, Thea supposed, a moniker given by the police and tabloids was never going to be the best thing to go by. Honestly, though, she was a little disappointed she hadn’t been given her own.

Then again, even if she’d gone after as high profile people as the Hood had, she wouldn’t be the first. That was the only reason he was so well-known; he’d been original, stand-out. The first. It would take a lot for her to get that kind of fame.

Not that she wanted it. She just sought justice.

“Arrow,” he said, breaking the silence. Thea frowned at him: “Arrow,” he said again, “That’s a better name. The arrows are more important than the hood.”

She chuckled. And she’d been embarrassed about suggesting Speedy.

“Well then, Arrow,” Thea said, making a small meal from the word, “How long do you think it’ll be?”

There was no need to specify any more. Most of the time, Shade was their one topic of discussion. They could hardly talk about more. Though Thea had started to think of these night-time rendezvous as dates, the normal date conversations weren’t much of an option when every sentence, every word had to be chosen carefully, to avoid revealing too much.

Even when she’d spoken of why she’d become a vigilante, she hadn’t been able to say much about Roy. If she’d said just that he was her boyfriend, the Hood/Arrow would have been able to guess from her dislike of Shade who the killer had been, and it would be trivial to look through his victims, to find any boyfriends.

“A week,” the Hood said, “At the most.”

Not long. Thea smiled.

“When we find him,” the Hood spoke, “What will you do?”

“The normal,” Thea said, slowly. “Why?”

“You hate Swift,” the Hood said. “Are you going to try to kill him?”

A moment of silence. Thea glanced across at the Hood, surprised.

“No,” Thea said, truthfully. “And to be fair, if I were, you’re not exactly one to talk.”

“I’m trying a new way,” the Hood said. Still, he nodded, conceding the point. “I’ve changed. I’m trying not to kill, when I can help it.”

Thea nodded, and smiled. She squeezed his hand, fondly.

“I haven’t killed,” she said. Great mood-setting there. “I know how death feels. Doesn’t feel right, to make anyone else go through that. Even the worst of the worst must have people who care about them.”

The Hood nodded, contemplative. Both thought of Moira, their mother, facing trial and possible execution for her involvement in the Undertaking. Starling City might see her as they each saw Shade.

Their lips met, again. Neither could say who initiated it that time, only that it felt right. They pulled apart smiling.

* * *

 

Oliver swung his way up the salmon ladder, flexing, and leaping. Below, Diggle practised alone, the basement of the club generally better than any gym.

After a few minutes of their exercising, Felicity came in, wandering down the stairs. She slowed, briefly, looking up at the half-naked Oliver. A couple of seconds passed, before she cleared her throat, averted her gaze, and approached her computer.

When he was finished with the ladder, Oliver approached her, standing behind the blonde while she skimmed through police reports for any possible cases, and the files they’d gathered from the bulb factories they’d visited in case she’d missed any details.

“Looking for anything specific?” Felicity said, trying not to face him.

“Not really,” he said, looking over her shoulder, before hesitating. “Actually, that other vigilante. Red and yellow woman, Mia. What do they have to say about her?”

“Mia?” Felicity echoed, “You know her name?”

“No,” Oliver said, “She wanted to be called that. Doubt it’s her real name.”

Felicity blinked. “You’re on speaking terms?”

Oliver hesitated. In that brief break, Felicity’s fingers ran across the keyboard, quickly loading everything the police had on her.

It was almost exactly as Oliver had expected. ‘Mia’ hadn’t lied; she’d never killed. A few people were rather beaten up, of course, but the worst cases always tended to be the more violent offenders. Could well be self-defence.

He could trust her, without a question. Something to be glad of.

“Ollie?” Felicity said, when he was too busy skimming the file to response. She paused. “Oh god, tell me she’s not another Helena.”

“What?” Oliver said, “No. No, she’s nothing like Helena. Zero fatalities.”

That evasion was enough to answer Felicity’s question though. She fell silent, waiting patiently as Oliver read the file.

“Do you trust her?” Felicity said, more seriously. Oliver frowned.

“Completely,” he said.

“Does she know?” There wasn’t any need to say much more. Oliver shook his head.

“And I don’t know who she is,” he said. “I know I trust her, and like her. That’s good enough for me.”

“Me too,” Felicity said.

She found herself smiling, somehow, as she returned to the computer.

Still, Felicity’s words played on Oliver’s mind, as the day went on. He dealt with a couple of small-time criminals, before heading home. Thea was still happy, he noted that. Still, he was busy thinking. He trusted ‘Mia’, he’d grown to do so.

In which case, he had no reason to be so secretive.

* * *

 

Speedy and Arrow met in the same place. Still no luck with locating Shade.

Their first topic of discussion was where and when they’d meet next. The ‘where’ was obvious, the same ruins, and then when was quickly decided as the day after tomorrow. By then, the Hood should have finished finding the factory that Shade stole the bulbs for his cane from.

Then it would be easy to stake it out. Sneak in, and wait. When Shade came by, they’d be able to stop him for good.

Thea smiled. It wasn’t in anticipation, so much as it was relief. Finally, finally Shade would be taken out.

The Hood faced her, silent. She tilted her head, getting the vague impression of his gaze from his body language alone, even if she couldn’t make out his eyes.

“I trust you,” the Hood said, slowly. “And I want you to know that, before Swift. I don’t expect anything in return, you don’t have to show me anything: I just want you to see me.”

Thea hesitated, but nodded; slowly. She didn’t know whether to feel awed, or grateful. Maybe even honoured; the vigilante trusted her so much?

He leaned closer, lips brushing hers, just briefly. The kiss went on rather longer than either expected: still, eventually, the Hood pulled back. Then, gracefully, he lifted both his hands, and pulled his hood back.

Thea’s eyes widened, the contentment in them fading in an instant. For long seconds, she stared, frozen. Part of her felt like laughing; which, almost certainly, wasn’t the reaction the Hood wanted. But then, neither was staring in shocked silence.

And why was she still thinking of him as the Hood?

“Ollie,” a gasp. Soft, breathless; forgetting even to disguise her voice.

And that voice Oliver knew. He blinked.

“ _Thea?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, that last scene is the entire reason I decided to write this. Probably says something about me. Oh well.


	4. Hero's Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shade still torments the city: and now, Oliver knows who Thea is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends my first foray into Arrow fanfiction. I'd have liked to have made this longer, if I had the time. Still, hopefully you've enjoyed how this story's developed.

Alone, Oliver Queen faced Richard Swift.

He’d found the factory, noted some irregularities in the financial reports generated by Felicity, and decided to check it out. The next plan of action was to hack the CCTV, and plug it into a program that would recognize when Swift was there. It sent a message to Oliver’s phone, and he was on his way in under a minute.

Swift would take a little time to get the bulbs. By the time he was done, the vigilante would be there; maybe the security guards wouldn’t be able to stop him, but the Hood stood more of a chance.

Oliver made it there just as Swift was leaving. He fired a quick trio of arrows, not really expecting them to hit; as before, Swift knocked them away.

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut as he approached; with his eyes shut, he had enough time to register the flash of Swift’s cane, before lashing out, wielding his bow like a club. When he opened his eyes, he could just about still see, though most of his surroundings were concealed by flashing spots and echoes of light.

Still, he could see. That gave him a small advantaged: he struck again, dropping the bow, thinking it a distraction more than anything. He grabbed the cane, catching Swift by surprised with his precision, and moved to wrestle it away.

“Again?” it was the first time he’d heard Richard Swift speak. His voice was cold, hoarse. Indifferent.

With startling speed, Swift jerked the cane, painfully jabbing the end into Oliver’s abdomen: Oliver gasped, and fell back as Swift twisted the cane again, wrenching it from Oliver’s grasp in the same motion that allowed him to flash it again.

That time, the flash-blindness claimed Oliver.

“Pitiful,” Swift spat. He didn’t say much.

It was hard to defend when he couldn’t see. The base of Swift’s cane was thrust into his abdomen, before it was swung around, and hit the back of his head, and knees: Oliver fell.

And that time, his bow was too far away to reach; and, of course, Swift was more practised. The cane came down again, and again. Back, head, legs: constant, unforgiving. He tried to reach out, and succeeded only in gasping, futilely.

For one, brief moment, he wished he’d brought Thea. Even lying there though, with Shade (as Thea called him) beating him, that wish didn’t last long.

She was still his sister, even if neither of them had exactly acted like it, while they were hooded.

Something in his chest cracked; probably a rib. He winced; though he’d unquestionably felt worse, that didn’t exactly mean he enjoyed it. Still, now, he didn’t get a chance to reach out. Didn’t get a chance to fight back; when his arm stretched away, Swift’s staff struck it.

For less time than he’d considered bringing Thea, bringing ‘Mia’, he also considered giving up. There was nothing he could do, no way to escape Shade’s beating-

Then there were sirens. Oliver’s eyes widened, managing to make out a little beyond the flecks that dominated his vision. Shade’s cane hit again, and he felt a boot kick his head. Then, nothing.

Swift wouldn’t want to be seen: of course he wouldn’t.

“Ollie?” a voice in his ear. A familiar one. “Ollie?” she spoke again, more worriedly; he groaned. “Oh, that doesn’t sound good. I called in the police to where you are, guessing you don’t want to be caught by them. Well, not guessing, pretty sure it’s true, but- Ollie, are you listening?”

“Listening,” he echoed, wincing as he pulled himself up. Yep, definitely a broken rib. “Thanks, Felicity.”

As he started on his way out of the factory, stumbling as much from the injuries Swift had given him, as from his still-recovering flash-blindness.

“I told you we needed Mia in on this,” Felicity was saying, as he ran. “If I hadn’t heard you- Wasn’t this whole attack on Swift planned with her in mind, anyway? You already knew you couldn’t beat him alone.”

“I thought-” Oliver gasped, already most of the way out from the factory. “I thought I’d stand more of a chance if I knew what was coming. Apparently not enough.”

“Still, no harm in asking for help, is there? Wasn’t Mia… you know, good?”

A few seconds of silence. Only the strained panting on the other side of the line told Felicity that Oliver was there, still struggling along.

“Sorry,” Felicity said eventually. “Is it just because you like her? I mean, you didn’t seem the kind to want someone like that to stay out of trouble, especially if she was as good as you said.”

“Sort of,” Oliver said.

He hadn’t told her. Couldn’t say why, just that it felt wrong. Maybe not as wrong as the decidedly un-brotherly feelings he’d ended up with after meeting Thea as a vigilante, but he still hadn’t wanted to confess to it.

Or maybe just because he didn’t want to be told that it was still no reason not to involve Thea.

“None of my business, sorry,” Felicity said. “Just- sounds like she could’ve come in handy.”

About a minute more, and Oliver was outside, using his bow as a makeshift crutch. Even injured like this, it was relatively easy to evade the police.

“Ok,” Felicity said, more professional, “A block away, just by a pizza place. Diggle’s got the getaway car.”

Oliver grunted, and hurried on. When he was most of the way there, he spoke again.

“It’s Thea,” he said, breathless. Felicity blinked.

“Diggle?” she said, taken aback. Oliver chuckled, and instantly regretted it as his rib ached.

“Mia,” he gasped.

“Mia’s Thea?” Felicity said, momentarily captivated by the rhyme. Then, realizing what that meant, “Oh.”

* * *

 

More from unadulterated shock than anything, their brief team-up dissolved. Though Thea, definitely, would have liked to keep on working together, it was hard to be in the same room as someone when you saw them as a brother, lover, and crime-fighting partner all in one.

Oliver was far more against continuing than she, though. Still, feelings developed didn't suddenly vanish once unmasked. 

He’d stopped helping her at all; wouldn’t let her pursue Shade. Apparently he was still scared for her. It might have been endearing that he cared for her safety, still, if she hadn’t long since grown tired of it.

At one point in that argument, she’d knocked him out. It hadn’t been intentional, just a demonstration that she could definitely take care of herself, especially at close quarters. Oliver had just underestimated her and, well.

That still hadn’t convinced him. He could be so stubborn.

Eventually, she’d just left. Regardless of what he thought, she wasn’t going to hang up her costume. She hadn’t. Even if she couldn’t find the place that Shade found his bulbs without her brother’s computer genius friend, there were other avenues to explore.

Thea stood up, getting out of bed when the sky darkened. She lifted her mattress, pulling out the red clothes and yellow jacket out from where she hid them. Smiling to herself, she slipped out her window.

Even without Shade, there were more crooks in Starling City.

Sometimes, Thea still ran into Canary, out in the streets. It had been nice, before; someone else to open up to, and talk about being a vigilante. In part for advice, in part just so she had someone to talk to.

This trip out, more than ever, she wished Canary would be nearby. The only other person she could talk with would be the Hood, but Thea very much doubted that would be an option now. It was weird just being in the same room as Oliver.

Of the black-clad vigilante however, there was no sign.

Alone, and rather unsatisfied, Thea made it back home just after midnight. Nimbly, she ascended the wall, and re-entered by the window, as she’d gone out. Quickly, she changed back out of her outfit. For a time, she considered sleeping.

Then there was a knock on her door. Sitting up, Thea call them in. Ollie walked in. She rolled her eyes. Still, whatever biting comment she had planned was instantly swallowed when she took in the sight of him.

He’d been patched up, certainly. That didn’t change the flowering bruise that decorating his cheek, and continued past the neck of his shirt, nor the clearly uncomfortable way he seemed to hobble, nor visible swelling around one of his ribs.

“Ollie,” Thea murmured, appalled, and quickly standing to help him, guiding him until he sat, more comfortably, on her bed. Standing didn’t look fun. “Do I want to ask?”

“Richard Swift,” he said, breathing shallowly.

Oh, that made a cutting remark so very tempting. Still, she restrained herself. She still cared for her brother’s wellbeing, even if she didn’t agree with him. Making sure he was ok was her first priority; she’d long since stopped being vindictive.

If she wasn’t planning to kill Shade for what he’d done to Roy, most offenses paled in comparison.

“Do you need ice?” Thea said. He shook his head, then winced at the pain of doing so.

“Later,” he said, then hesitated. “I was wrong.”

Thea tilted her head. She smiled; ok, maybe she’d allow herself one remark.

“You need me after all?” she took his hand, in a manner painfully reminiscent of when she’d been a vigilante, and he’d been the Hood, in that ruined house.

It didn’t matter, though. It was a comfort, even for him. He didn’t pull away; indeed, he squeezed back, though he took a moment to gain enough breath to talk.

“No,” he met her eyes; stared into them. “I need Mia.”

“Speedy,” Thea said. He blinked.

“What?”

“Call me Speedy,” she said. “Like you used to. Fits better, don’t you think? Mia was just a random name.”

“You hated that nickname,” he seemed amused.

She shrugged. “Maybe I needed to grow into it. Maybe you’d have hated it if I called you Arrow with no reason. Who cares?”

“Fine,” Oliver smiled. “Speedy. Can you help?”

Thea smiled. Then, wordless, she leant forward, and dropped s kiss on his cheek. Alone, it was purely platonic; no more than any sister might give her brother. Still, with how close they’d been earlier, there was added significance.

“Later,” she said. “When you’re better.”

* * *

 

It was over two weeks later that Oliver had healed enough to be anything even approaching his normal levels of fitness. In the mean time, Speedy had played vigilante in the city, making sure Shade knew that she, at least, was still out there, even if she wasn’t willing to fight him just yet.

Shade wasn’t too active, in any case. Evidently fearful; the few murders he was responsible for seemed much more rushed than usual. Though they might not have stopped him, the knowledge that the Hood had tracked him to where he bought his bulbs was enough of a threat to lessen his actions.

Still it hurt, each death they saw reported.

Over the weeks of healing, Thea seemed to forget their vigilante identities. She spoke only of purely Queen matters, acting oblivious when Oliver insisted he was ready to go after Shade, and proving him wrong with a soft poke to the ribs at the same time.

“Our first problem is,” Oliver said, on the first day Thea acknowledged Shade, “We need to be able to find him. I doubt he’ll be so obvious in finding bulbs, now: and he’s obviously careful when in the Glades. I don’t know where he is.”

“That’s no problem,” Thea shrugged, sitting beside him. She took his hand again, absently. They were doing that a lot.

“What am I missing?” Oliver sighed, smiling; a smile Thea echoed.

“You don’t know where he is,” she said. “But do you really think I stopped working on it just because you couldn’t handle making out with me?”

“Ok,” Oliver said, “What’d you do?”

“Looked around,” she said. “Way I figure it, Shade can’t walk around in public too much. Victorians get quite a bit of attention; so there must be either quiet streets, or sneaky routes from his house, to each murder victim. I wandered around the Glades a few nights, found a few possibilities, staked them out. Found where he’s renting.”

That time, he kissed her; just as semi-platonically as she had been, weeks before.

* * *

 

Oliver Queen wore green, with a quiver still over his back, and a bow held easily in one hand. Thea Queen wore red and yellow, and seemed to be unarmed. Canary had taught her well enough; she was willing to bet she was at least Oliver’s equal when it came to hand-to-hand, if not better.

Still, he gave her an incredulous look when he saw her ready to approach Shade with nothing in her hands. She’d shrugged it off, saying she had all she needed.

“When we’re done,” Oliver said, “I’m teaching you archery.”

“Is that a threat?” she glanced across at him.

“It’s helpful,” he said. “What’re you going to do if someone’s metres away?”

“Run closer.”

“Seriously, Speedy?”

“Shoot them, then,” she said. “Gun’s got to be better than a bow and arrow. Don’t know what you’re thinking.”

“Thought you didn’t kill?”

“Kneecaps,” Thea shrugged, exasperated. “Can we discuss this after?”

Oliver gave a smile that reminded her all too much of how playful he’d been before the island. Then, he nodded, and sprang to his feet.

Speedy and Arrow came face to face with Shade.

Richard Swift brought his staff down, flashing again. There was the unavoidable pang of pain as flash-blindness claimed the two, but it didn’t stop them.

Against two, he stood no chance. Oliver had fired, first aiming, then blindly as darkness overtook him. He dropped his bow, then, knowing it was useless. The cane was thrust into his still-healing rib, eliciting a gasp of pain: and he moved his hands, quickly, to grab it.

While Shade jerked the staff, Thea was on him. He twisted, and bucked, trying to hit her with the base of the cane: instinctively, however, Oliver held fast, and Thea managed to deliver a punch that glanced his weaving upper body.

Even outnumbering him, he still had the advantage of sight. Each of the Queens fought blindly, heading for where they heard noise, or guessed Shade would be: he had enough warning to duck though, or evade, when he could.

But he couldn’t triumph as quickly or as cleanly as he could before.

The fight dragged on for a long, painful minute. Shade succeeded in freeing his cane from Oliver’s grip, and struck the Hood on the back of the head; before he could deliver the same beating as before, however, he was tackled by Speedy. And so on, and so forth.

Until Oliver succeeded in wrenching the cane from Shade’s grasp, once more grabbing it, and giving a tug just as Thea made Shade step back. Oliver went toppling back and, knowing he’d disarmed Shade, span to throw the stick away.

By then, Thea’s vision had begun to clear. Not completely, by any means: she still saw through a haze of twinkling stars, the remnant of the flash. Still, she managed to catch a glimpse of Shade.

“Damn you,” she saw him say those words, in his utterly vicious tone. And saw him glance down at the floor, to one of where one of Oliver’s arrows had fallen when their engagement began.

Both he and Thea moved in the same instant. Shade picked up the sharp weapon, now more eager to get the Arrow out of the way, rather than cause him pain, lunging forward. In the same instants, Thea was frantically thinking through the possibilities: she could tackle him away, sure, but he could resist that, or simply aim for her.

She needed to stop him.

As Richard Swift, Shade, thrust the sharp arrowhead right for Oliver’s heart, Thea knocked him aside: and in her hand, salvaged from the floor similarly, was another arrow.

The worst thing was the initial resistance. She needed to apply more force than she’d expected, to pierce his skin. Unthinking, she’d done so. She’d had to. And once that force was applied, the arrow slid in with sickening ease.

Thea rolled to the side, murmuring words she couldn’t remember, something about how Oliver didn’t need to worry. His sight would return soon, surely.

And it did, after half a minute. Or at least, it took that long for the flash-blindness to fade enough to let him see Shade on the floor, with an arrow, as a last resort, thrust through his heart. Beside him, Thea had pulled herself back onto her knees, shivering. He approached her: held her.

Killing wasn’t easy. The worst thing that had ever happened to him on the island, was beginning to think that it could be.

“It’s over,” Thea said, quiet. “It’s over.” She inhaled: and stared. The sight of Shade wouldn’t leave her mind.

* * *

 

Speedy and Arrow stood on the roof, on the opposite side of the street, when the police came to collect Richard Swift.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Thea said, quietly. Still, somehow, disbelieving. Forgetting what she’d done wasn’t exactly easy. “Never doing that again.”

“I know,” Oliver said, comforting. “Doing what, this crime-fighting?”

Thea glanced up at him, her expression making her thoughts on that proposal especially clear. “Killing,” she said. “Don’t expect me to stop doing anything else.”

A chuckle, then silence. They looked down as the police worked; Swift’s body was removed, covered up.

“The other stuff,” Thea said. “What about that?”

“Other stuff?” Oliver echoed. In truth, he knew what she meant, even if he was hoping he was wrong. More of a mess than he could untangle.

And, sure enough, Thea answered that by making exaggerated smooching sounds. Oliver found himself chuckling, again. Well, from vertigo to vigilantism, neither of them seemed to especially care what people thought of them.

“We’re not really related in costume,” Thea said, shrugging. “Bad excuse, but you’ve made worse.”

“True,” Oliver said, and smiled to himself. “And if anyone finds out we’re the vigilantes, we’ll have other worries.”

“Sounds like a plan, bro,” Thea said, the emphasis on her words bringing her speech to the point of parody.

And, laughing, Arrow and Speedy ran along the rooftops of Starling City. 


End file.
